


An Ever Fixed Mark

by My_words_fly_up



Series: An Ever Fixed Mark [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Falling In Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 04:27:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6596632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_words_fly_up/pseuds/My_words_fly_up
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles lives quite scandalously in the slums of London and never expected to cross paths with a kind, well-bred gentleman like Louis Tomlinson.<br/>But once they meet neither will be the same again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Ever Fixed Mark

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2

           “This is quite sad, isn't it?”

            Harry lazily swept a curl from his face.  “Sad?”

            Louis was leaning against the backboard of Harry's bed, while Harry was sprawled out opposite him, their legs entangled while each read at their own leisure.  A fire was crackling, used now more out of a necessity for light than warmth.  The ventilation in the room was poor, and it smelled particularly smoky this night.

            “Yes, sad.  Why did you suggest I read it, Harry?”

            “I thought you would like it.”

            Louis folded the paper on his lap, a crease forming in his brow while he frowned.  “No matter what, we cannot hang on to what we love the most in life?”

            “Better to have fleeting dreams than none at all.”

            “ _'Yet if hope has flown away, in a night or in a day, in a vision, or in none, is it therefore the less gone?'_    Poe was indeed a very morose man.”

            “Instead of looking at the things we are losing, perhaps we should just be grateful to have them?”  Harry offered. 

            Louis sat the folded paper aside.  “Why don't you read poems about people who find each other and live happily ever after?”

            Harry turned on his side.  “How dull!”

            Louis smiled.  “When I was young-”

            “Bah!  You are still young!”

            “Says the one who is younger.  Now remember, Harry, you mustn't interrupt,” Louis playfully scolded.  “What was I saying?  Oh yes, when I was younger I had a governess.  She is no longer employed with my family, there is a different woman who teaches my younger sisters now, but this governess would often have lessons with my cousins and me, as we were all close in age.

            “They hated reading, poems, Latin, all of it.  How my teacher loathed them!  I could see it plain on her face, she thought they were a bunch of spoiled brats.  They never paid attention to anything of detail.  They didn't want to be bothered with language, color, emotion.  I did not understand, for it was all I wanted, I couldn't get through a book fast enough.  They often teased me for it, and I started pretending that I did not like it all that much after all.”

            “They do sound like spoiled brats.”

            “All I wanted was someone who enjoyed stories as much as I, but there was never anyone I could relate to who felt it the same.  Not even my sisters.”

            Harry watched him.  In the firelight his features were made more prominent by the shadows that danced about them.  He was so handsome, more so than anyone Harry had ever laid eyes upon.  His customers were older, most of them carrying bitterness inside that made them almost ugly.  Louis had a mouth that smiled honestly, eyes that hid a sadness.  His voice was soft and he moved with the grace a king would envy.  He wondered if he should pinch himself to wake him from this dream.

            He noticed Louis' eyes were waiting. 

            “Did you have no close friends?  No friend like one can only find in childhood?”

            “I have dozens of friends, who think they know me, but only superficially.  I was forced to play with my cousins, and other boys of family friends.  But none of them truly know me.”

            “Does all of society know nothing of each other?  Aren't they all pretending to be living these perfect lives?”

            “I suppose.  Do the ones you know not pretend?”

            “The _ones_ I know?  The poor, you mean?  Louis, they are too hungry and tired to even know they don't have anything, let alone pretend to be anything they aren't!  I suppose I did have friends while I was living on the street.  One in particular had a brother who sent him to work thieving and begging.  He would share some of the food he stole.”  Harry had not thought of him in years.  He could not even properly recall his face.  “His brother had him steal from the wrong man though, and he was found with his throat slashed.  He was my age at the time, maybe a little younger.”

            “That is awful, Harry.”  Louis shook his head.  “I do wish you would stop me, when I go on about such petty things in my own life.  I have never known someone who was murdered, no one who ever needed to steal.”

            “Your problems are not petty.  Honestly, I am not certain your life isn't harder.  I never had to live under such scrutiny.”

            Louis shook his head.  “I suppose I went an odd way around saying that I have never known someone who cherishes the same things as I.”

            “Men, you mean?”

            “Harry, I am trying to be serious!”

            Harry put on a somber face.  “Please, continue.”

            Louis crossed his arms.  “No no, I am finished now.”

            “I am sorry, dear.” Harry crawled over him, and put his head on his chest.  “Do go on!  Tell me how you have never met anyone so precious as I!”

            Louis turned his head away.  “Precious?  Try irksome!”

            Harry laughed.  “ _Irksome_?  You love it!”

            With that, Louis leaned over and kissed him.  It was soft and delicate, and Harry forgot everything in that moment.  Time ceased to matter.  The room did not smell, the walls were not dirty.  Everything was light, and all of it made music together. 

            When Louis pulled away, Harry was smiling.

            “Sorry, I should have asked,” Louis said sheepishly.

            “Even after we have...”

            “I am still a gentleman, Harry.”

            “Well, I am not some maid that you need ask permission from!”  Harry grinned.  “Besides, it was wonderful.  You should do it again.”

            Louis leaned in for another kiss and Harry could not help but think, 'a _dream within a dream...'_

 

 

 

 

 

 

            With season in full swing the wealthy were occupied with attending all the different balls and dinner parties.  All of London's wealth opened their drawing rooms for such events, and the most important people could see and be seen in the height of fashion, the more extravagant the better.  Dinner was served late in the evening and dancing soirees would go until morning.  The new blossoming daughters would be presented for the most difficult and exciting time of their lives.  They were learning to flirt and laugh and the most desirable of the lot would land a husband of the same caliber.

            Unfortunately, for the other classes, life went on as usual.  Laborers worked as they would any other day.  Women tended the household chores or spent long hours in a sewing shop.  All was the same, except for the workers in Hartwick House, who always experienced a noticeable drop in clientele during the season.

            Men were kept busy with attending all these most important events, there was no spare time to steal away and go out on their own.  They dared not draw any attention to themselves by other members of society with their absence, that just would not do. 

During season the girls in Hartwick House grew restless, and Charlie grew irritated as his funds dwindled during these months, and Harry felt especially alone.  He often wondered what Louis might be doing that very moment, wherever he was.  Harry was sure he looked stunning in the most fashionably cut suites.

            “I want yer girls ready if some 'o shows up!”  Charlie instructed, nodding at the girls who were lounging about the sitting room.  “I mean it!  Sometimes one of these blokes might come stumbling in after some randy party.  The 'tings I hear that happen at those places...well, it’s gotta get some of them in the mood!”

            The Big Man was standing in the back of the room, his large arms crossed against his chest.  He looked as bored as Harry felt.

            Charlie went on, working on convincing himself that there would be customers.  It was eleven o'clock at night, and there had been no customers in three days.  It had been almost two weeks since Harry had seen Louis.

            They _had_ been able to see each other quite regularly.  Harry had never seen Louis so happy, he practically had a skip in his step.  It had been almost two months since their first morning together, and they had enjoyed each others company within the walls and outside them since.

            Charlie did not seem pleased that Harry had a regular visitor on all of his nights off, one who did not pay.  However, he dared not make mention of it to a man such as Louis.  If Louis had been lower class, he would not be allowed these services for free.  The girls weren't allowed lovers outside of the ones who paid, but because of Louis' standing, he would be the exception.

            Harry was comfortably laying against Lucy's lap, though his eyes were open and he was far from sleep.  He could not help but think a customer would be a good distraction for him.

            Charlie was wrapping up his speech, when Harry stood and approached him.

            “I have been meaning to ask you something, Charlie.”

            “Oh yea?”

            Harry lowered his voice.  He had told Lucy, but he did not want the others to overhear.  “Is it all right if I take a few days off?”

            Charlie's eyebrows shot up.  “For wot?”

            “I might have received an offer to go somewhere.”  The last time they had spoken, Louis asked Harry if he could visit his family's country house together.  He said they could go at the end of the season, when events started to slow down.  Everyone else would still be in the city, so they would be alone.

            Charlie was eyeing him, then motioned for him to follow him.

            The space had been a closet before it was an office.  It was a cramped square room with a small wooden desk, locks on each drawer.  Harry always guessed that a wall space could be pushed out somewhere in this room, and that is undoubtedly where Charlie hid his money.

            Due to the Big Man's size, he lingered in the hallway.  There wasn't enough space for him if Harry was there.  Charlie went to his chair and leaned back, his hands folded over chest.

            “Offered ter 'go somewhere'?”

            “Yes.” Harry did not have to say by who.

            He heard the Big Man snort.

            “Sorry, Harry.  But it’s not like I can give yer holidays.”

            “When Janice's mother died, you allowed her time off!”

            Charlie answered him with a look.  “Yer mother hasn't died.”

            “Yes, she did.  Many, many years ago, but she still died.”

            “Wot if something happened to yer?”

            “What could possibly happen?”

            “Yer get attacked again!”

            “This is different.  I will be safe.”

            Charlie leaned forward.  “Wot if yer get caught?”

            Harry made a face.  “I am not so stupid, Charlie.”

            “Pff.  Yer were stupid enough to get in that carriage.  The answer is no.”

            “Just like that?”

            “Just like that.”

            “You're being unreasonable!  I'm only asking for a few days!  I can leave on Wednesday and return Friday.”

            “What am I ter tell yer customers?”

            “Tell them I'm injured again.”

            “And I'm still reeling from that.  I didn't rush yer or nothin, yer know that, Harry.  I made sure yer was in good health before sending yer back to work.”

            Disappointment sank in as Harry could see that Charlie would not bend.  “I remember.”

            “With season in full swing clients can't come as often as they like, yer know.”

            “Then is it not the perfect time?  No one may even know I am not here.”

            “ _I_ would know!  Things are tight right now, t'ey always are this time ‘o year.  I can't risk losing the wage.”

            Harry shook his head, annoyed.  “My wage?  I'm not asking for a month.”

            “Sorry Harry, but I'm not changing me mind.”

            Harry glared defiantly at Charlie, but said nothing more.  He squeezed past The Big Man without looking back.

            The girls were laughing about something when he returned to the sitting room.  He noticed Lucy was not there and went to her room.  He needed someone to share in his annoyance and misery, yet after relaying Charlie's words, found her irritatingly unsympathetic.

            “It's not a good idea, you know that Harry,” she said, brush in hand.  She pulled Harry to the stool and began brushing out his hair.

            “What's not a good idea?  Louis just wants to take me to his family’s country house.  No one will be there.  Everyone will still be in the city for season.”

            “Charlie is looking out for your safety and I agree with him.”

            “Safety?  What are you talking about?”

            “You did not use good judgment when you got into that awful man's carriage.”    

            Harry pulled away from her.  “Francis was a customer.  Louis is not.”

            “Isn't he?”

            Harry's felt his cheeks burn.  “No, he isn't.”

            “Then what is he, Harry?”

            Harry was too angry to think of the right words.  Perhaps he didn't know what Louis was, except the closest Harry had been to any man, that was certain.  It was not as though Louis could openly court him, like high society men did to women.  Everything they could be together would only ever be in private.  

            “Harry, don't give me that look.  You are my love, my brother.  I just worry about you.”

            “Worry about what?”

            Lucy began fussing with her own hair in a yellowed, cracked mirror, watching Harry in the reflection.  “I don't want you to be hurt.”

            “He is not violent in the least!  He is gentle and caring and...he would never harm a soul!”

            “I am not talking about him physically hurting you.”  She gave up pining in the loose strand, and tucked it behind her ear instead.  “Where do you think this is going to end, my dear?”

            “Why are you asking me these questions?  You know I have never felt this way about anyone.”

            Lucy kissed him lightly on the cheek.  “That is what scares me.  He is from a different world, to which you can never belong.  He is not like us.  He is a gentleman!  He's used to buying the things he wants.”

            Harry felt the tears sting his eyes, so he left her room before they could fall.

            He slammed the door in an effort to shut them all out.  There was knocking a few minutes later, but he ignored it.  He didn't know if it was Lucy or Charlie, but he didn't care.  They didn't understand.  Of course they would be jealous of his happiness, neither had love of their own!  Lucy had no right to say that Louis was simply buying him.

            Harry cursed the timing of this stupid society ritual.  He had no idea when Louis might be able to visit.  It had never irritated him before, that Louis would be out having the time of his life while Harry was stuck within the deteriorating walls of Hartwick House.

            Five more days passed until Harry heard from Louis.  It was not in person; Louis sent a letter to inquire when Harry would have a day off.  The Big Man brought him the fine parchment, and glared at Harry while he wrote his reply.  The Big Man did not know how to read or write, and it bothered him to the core that this boy prostitute could.  Harry wrote that the whole house was without business, so he had plenty of time off, and did not have anyone scheduled in the coming days.

            Harry expected Louis the next day, but four more days passed until Louis arrived at ten minutes to six.  His hair had grown a little longer, the tips soft and curling at the neck.   Likely the new fashion of the season Harry guessed, and Louis was dressed so elegantly he never looked more out of place in this dreary room.   

            Louis leaned towards Harry when he opened the door, but Harry turned away from the embrace.  Louis did not miss the gesture, but proceeded to remove his hat. 

            “It has been long enough,” Harry said coolly, stepping towards the fireplace.

            Louis placed his hat on Harry's bed.  “I told you I would be preoccupied with season starting.  My family has their own parties, there is no way I could miss them.  I barely stole away today and I cannot stay for very long.”

            “It sounds like you are having a splendid time.”

            “I hardly said that.  You are in a foul mood this evening.”

            Harry ignored him.  “Charlie will not let me have the days off.  I won't be going off into the country with you.”

            Louis took a seat in the overstuffed chair.  His suit was gray and his vest white, making his blue eyes bright.  Suddenly Harry was irritated that he should look so together while he was so annoyed.

            “Not even a few days?”

            “No.”

            “Did he say why?”

            “Oh, blah, something or other about my safety.  And how he's still catching up from when I couldn't work earlier this year.  Season is already hurting him, he cannot turn away any customers.”

            Louis tapped his finger against his knee as he thought.  “Well, I have a solution.  He cannot complain about missing the wage if I pay for three nights.”

            Suddenly all Harry could hear was Lucy's words.  _'He is used to buying the things he wants.'_

            “No.”

            “Why not?  We can leave early Wednesday morning and be there by the evening.  You will love the house, Harry, there is a splendid garden where we will have a picnic-”

            “You cannot just buy me.”

            “Pardon?”  Louis frowned.  “I am not _buying_ you.  Charlie cannot complain about a missed wage if he isn't losing one, and why should it matter, if we can be together?”

            “Is that what you do to solve all your problems?  Do you overcome every obstacle with money?  Tell me Louis, have you ever been denied anything?”  Harry was not being fair, but the words were tumbling out of him anyway.

            Louis looked as though Harry had struck him.  “Do you truly think I am so arrogant?  That I buy my way through life?”

            “What could the rich ever know of real problems?  Whatever comes their way, they can always handle it because they have money.”

            Louis looked at him, through sad blue eyes.  “The rich?  Is that the category you put me in?  I only wanted you to be able to come to the country house so that we could spend some time alone together.”

            “We can be alone in my room.  We don't have to ride all the way to the country.”  Harry's mind was racing.  He hadn't intended to turn this into an argument.  But seeing Louis sit there in all his wealth and ease had rankled him.  “It's because you find my room disgusting, is that it?  You wish to get randy on top of satin sheets?”

            Louis took a deep breath.  “I only wanted us to have a nice time together, with no interruption.  I thought you would enjoy it.  And to be perfectly honest, it is not exactly easy to imagine your room without thinking of all the other men who come there!”

            Harry crossed his arms.  “I am sorry, but I have to work to survive!  You knew exactly what I did the first time you came here.  I cannot just spend my days living off the money from my family.”

            Louis kept his eyes down.  “Why are doing this?” 

            Harry was about to snap back, but this time stopped.  He sat heavily on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes.  “You can buy anything you want, Louis.”

            “I am not like the others!”

            “I have to help tie your boot laces Louis, because you do not know how.  You have servants who see to your every need, and you have the money to buy your every desire.”

            “Do you want me to apologize for the family I was born in to?”

            “I was bought by Charlie.  And I am sold to others.  I do not want to be bought by you.”

            “I never meant to upset you, Harry.  I only thought if I paid for your wage those three nights we might be together.”

            “I would really like that.  But I do not want it, not like this.”

            Louis nodded, keeping his eyes down.  “I understand.”

            Harry regretted having gotten so upset.  He didn't even know how long Louis could stay, and he was ruining his visit.  He tried to push Lucy's words out of his head. 

            “Are you going to a party tonight?”  Harry asked lightly, hoping to change the subject.

            “Yes.  I am attending with my sisters.”

            “All four of them?”

            “No, only Sophia and Verity.  Eva and Lizzie are too young for this party.”

            “Oh.  Will there be dancing?”

            “There will be music, some new innovative musician most like, that's what they always say.  There will be food and wine and dancing, until the sun comes up.”

            “It sounds lovely,” Harry admitted.  “I would give anything to attend such a party.”

            Louis shook his head.  “It is loud, distracting, and tiresome.  A duke will undoubtedly drink too much and make a fool of himself.  There is always some scandal..”

            “You only complain because it is something you have always done.  Let me be covetous, it is something I will never experience!”  Harry could only dream of such a scene, a sea of ladies dressed in their new dresses and the men looking so dapper.  “Besides, it sounds better than being here.” 

            “It is not better than being here.  Not for me.”

            Harry could only smile.  “When do you have to go back?”

            Louis raised his eyebrow.  “Not for at least another hour.”

            Harry went to him and pulled him out of the chair, sliding his fingers under Louis' belt and giving a playful tug.  “Then we better make it count.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

            The days were getting warmer and sunnier, and despite all the trees sprouting green leaves and flowers blooming, the streets sweltered in the heat.  The house became uncomfortably hot with all the windows open.  Harry couldn't tell if the house smelled worse from its own stale air, or from the air outside that reeked of horse manure.

            Harry slept the mornings away, even without customers keeping him up all night.  He was still trying to avoid Lucy because he was still angry.  Charlie said nothing more about his request for time off, and Harry did not mentioned it again.  Only a few customers had come since the last time he had seen Louis, which meant the days dragged on slower than usual.

            So it came as a surprise when the clock on the mantle read ten o'clock in the morning and a knock sounded on the door.

            “Go away!”  He mumbled, after glancing at the clock.  “I am sleeping.”

            He heard the door open, and he waved his hand away.  “Come back later!”

            There was a laugh as his sheet was pulled back, which was followed by a gasp. 

            “Harold, you are not decent!”

            Harry sat up at Louis' voice, rubbing his eyes as if he did not trust them.  When he saw that it was certainly Louis Tomlins standing before him, he grinned as he covered himself with the sheet.  “Louis, if I did not know better I would think this a dream.”

            Louis turned away.  “Where is your night shirt?”

            “It is too hot!”  Harry had to laugh at Louis' embarrassment.  “It's not as though you haven't seen me this way.”

            “I was not expecting it!”

            Harry glanced back at the clock, wondering if it was broken.  “I was not expecting _you_!”

            “I thought I would surprise you.”

            “And here it is, me surprising you.”

            “Indeed you did!”  Louis sat on the end of the bed and his face became most serious.  “Promise you will not be angry with me.”

            Harry looked at him suspiciously.  “Why?  What did you do?”

            “You have the night off.”

            “That did not sound like a question.  Because if it had been, I could tell you the answer is likely no.  Charlie wants me here, in case a customer should come calling.”

            “Well, that is why I told you not to be mad.  I did just speak to Charlie-”

            “You what?”

            “It was a perfectly cordial conversation, Harry.”

            “Oh, was it?  Did you discuss the weather?”

            Louis tried to hide his smile.  “Actually, we did.  More importantly, we discussed you, and he was most accommodating to my request.”

            Harry shook his head.  “Of course he was!  You're a gent!  And he...I...oh, Louis, you did not try to persuade him to let me off-”

            “No, I did not broach a subject he had already set his mind too.  However, he saw little harm in me having your company for one day and-”

            “Louis, I cannot believe you would do this, after you told you I-”

            “Let me finish, before you decide to be upset.  I did not bribe him, I did not pay him.  I simply asked for permission from him, for you, for one day.  I thought about what you said, about how you wanted to attend a party.”

            “And?”

            “And I want that for you as well.”

            “What?”  Harry thought he misheard.

            “I have made arrangements.  You have an appointment with a tailor.”

            “No, I do not, Louis Tomlins.  People in society all know each other.  I know enough about it from my customers, even if there is a room with five hundred people, they all know who the other is, or whose family they belong to.”

            “Not at this party.”

            “Have you gone mad, Louis?”

            “Perhaps.”  Louis smiled.  “It is a masquerade ball.  No one will see your face.” 

            “What if I am discovered?  I will be thrown in jail for being an imposter!”

            “No one is going to discover you.  This is a perfect opportunity.  You will have a mask, which is the point of these parties; no one knows who anyone is.  It is wonderfully dangerous and controversial, which is why they do it.”

            Harry looked at Louis, mischief in those irresistible blue eyes.  “Why, my dear Louis, have I finally started to rub off on you?”

 

 

 

 

           

            The music and laughter could be heard from miles away.  A great manse on Kinnerton Street was ablaze with light pouring from the windows, its ten foot double doors open as all of society made its way in.  There was a long gravel path which led through a perfectly manicured lawn.  The west facing house had four marble columns adding to its dramatic architecture.  Carefully grown vines wrapped about the windows with their white wooden shutters.  Above it, a full moon sat low in the sky, adding to the mystery of the night.

            Harry's heart had been fluttering since he saw the house, forgetting for a moment the mask he wore did not cover his mouth.  Louis had only laughed and pushed his mouth closed with his finger.

            Now that he was inside, he was not certain any of this was real at all.

            That morning Louis had to rush Harry to his appointment at the tailor to have one of Louis' suit fitted to Harry's frame, which had proven slightly more difficult than originally thought.  Louis had not even worn the suit yet himself, it being so newly cut and the most recent fashion.  Harry knew the fabric cost over four years of his salary, the satin smooth and light.  It was a forest green and Louis had remarked it would bring out his eyes.  When Harry first slid into it the clothes hung off him as if he were a scarecrow.  The tailor all but cursed under his breath when he saw the amount of work he needed to do in such little time.

            The pants were let down to cover Harry’s extra height, but everything else had to be taken in several inches.

            At one point the tailor left them for a moment and Louis had turned his eyes on Harry.  “You have not been eating well at all!” 

            Standing on display in front of a full length mirror, Harry could not deny it.  “I told you, sometimes it’s hard to come by supper,” he responded defensively.

            “What can I do to make sure you have food?”

“Not everyone can afford to keep a fashionable little paunch like yours!”

“Can I send Charlie food-”

            “No!  God, do not dare.  Now, please drop it.”

            “You look like a skeleton in my clothes!  My little sister is not so thin!”

            The tailor returned then and they were unable to say more.  At noon Louis ordered several sandwiches so they could eat, while the tailor worked through the meal. 

            It was almost evening when all was done.  The tailor was ready to collapse, but the suit fit perfectly on Harry's body.  The cut of the suit even helped hide the sharp angles of his bones.  The look of concern was still in Louis' eyes, but he had smiled when he saw the finished product.

            “You look beautiful, Harry,” he had said when they were safely in the carriage.  “A perfect gentleman.”

            In order for Louis to be readied at his own home, Harry was driven around in Louis' carriage for a little over an hour.  The carriage did not go near Louis’ house, much to Harry's dismay.  He had hoped to take a peek at the great Tomlins residence.

            All of that had been forgotten when he saw Louis walking down the street, dressed in a black suit with gray stripes.  The tail of his jacket was long, stopping at the middle of his thighs, and it complimented every curve.  It was all Harry could do but not whistle when Louis stepped into the carriage.

            As they rode towards the house Louis produced the masquerade masks he’d had made special for this occasion.  Harry's was white, with green swirls outlining the eyes, nose, and forehead.  Two sparkling emeralds were fastened along the inner corner of the eyes, as though they were teardrops.

            Louis' mask was black with silver and gold paint, the lines swirling about the cheeks.  Louis put his mask on, and Harry followed. 

            “Are these ours to keep?  If so, I can think of some usage later.”  Harry had laughed, but Louis only shook his head. 

            “I must go over some things with you, so you must be serious.”

            “But of course, darling.”

            Louis might have rolled his eyes, but it was difficult to tell with the mask.  “You mustn't say anything offensive, Harry, no matter how angry someone makes you.  You mustn't interrupt any conversations.  I know it will be tempting, but do not insult them.  Society people may seem insipid enough to be mocked, but offend them and it will all be over.  Compliment, always compliment, and-”

            “I know all of this, Louis, you needn't go on as if I've never seen gents before!”

            “Harry, I told you not to interrupt,” Louis chided.  “Also, two of my sisters will be there-”

            “Oh, I must meet them!”

            “Harold!”

            “Sorry, Lou.”

            “The point of a masquerade is to hide one's identity, but of course they will see me and likely come over.  Try not to use a  name, but if an introduction is unavoidable we will need a name for you.  What shall you like to be called?  It must be easy to remember.”

            “My father's name was Albert.”

            “Perfect.  If by keeping with manners that a name must be forced out of you, it will be Albert.  Albert Grady.  There are dozens and dozens of Grady's, they are all related some way or another, but there are so many of them no one can keep them straight.”

            “Albert Grady.  I sound rather drab.”

            “This is not the time, Harry!  Now, please, you must not bring any attention to yourself.  Do whatever you can to avoid such a thing.”

            “Louis, I am not as hopeless as to need this lecture, am I?”

            “You speak properly, Harry, but your manners are-”

            “Less than refined?”

            “Please!”  Louis paused.  “Now, I must bring this up, no matter how much I would rather not even think about it.  If you see any of your customers, I beg of you, stay away from them.”

            Harry laughed.  “What did you think I would do?  Offer to take them to a back room?”

            “You may recognize one or two.”

            “I am not used to seeing them with their clothes on, let alone in masks!”

            Louis could only stare in something of horror as the carriage stopped then and the door was opened.

            They had arrived fashionably late and walked in with a crowd of about fifty others, all giggling and whispering.  Harry could only guess there the number of guests within a long reception hall.  The ceiling was at least thirty feet high with a great crystal chandelier in the middle.  Every other gas lamp was lit, keeping the room dim and creating more shadow than light to add to the mysterious atmosphere. 

            Butlers in masks greeted them, motioning for them to continue down the hall to a massive parlor.  A string quartet was set up in the corner of the room, playing an enticing tune.  The floor was black and white marble tile, long and wide.  Wooden trestle tables were set up to outline the dancing space, stacked to the brims with meats, pies, fruits, and cheeses, more food than would be necessary to feed an army.

            Harry absorbed as much of the details as he could, completely transfixed.  The men were dressed so exquisitely (though none looked as handsome as Louis) and the women even more so.  The dresses were cut daringly low, the waists cinched tight.  He saw every fabric imaginable and all different colors.  Most were dressed darkly to go along with the theme.  There were deep red velvet dresses, black ones sprinkled with diamonds, blues and purples that were so vibrant Harry could not tell what they were made of.  The crinoline skirts were even more dramatically full than he had seen women wear in public.  He noticed most of them wore masks painted to match their clothes, and he realized Louis had seen to that as well, with his being green and Louis’ black.  He saw one mask covered with tiny little diamonds, some with long, bird-like noses, and some that were painted gold.  Other masks had been decorated with feathers and fabrics, and some even appeared to be made of metal. 

            Harry could have just gazed at the clothes all night, but felt Louis pulling him away from the entrance.  Harry discovered that he wasn't as nervous as he expected, though his stomach fluttered with excitement.  Perhaps he had seen too many of these people at their most vulnerable to be intimidated by them.

            “We don't we try some refreshments,” Louis suggested casually.  Groups of masked guests were standing about the table nibbling at the food, allowing their cups to refilled before they were even empty.

            “I ate today already.”

            “You need more than one meal a day.”

            “If I eat anything else, this suit will not fit,” Harry joked, but Louis did not seem pleased.  Harry realized that even with the mask he could read Louis, despite high society folks being masters at hiding their true feelings.  One had to accept jokes as funny when they were dreadful, pretend they had not noticed unbuttoned jackets, or feigned sadness over one's absence when they were elated someone not be there.  Louis of course did it with perfect ease, but Harry had learned very early on to read signs.  The slight flicker of the eye, a quick glance away, or a purse of lips.  It was of the utmost importance that he read his clients to see what they truly wanted, and he could read Louis too.

            “I insist.”  Louis all but shoved a finger sandwich at him.  Harry had no choice but to accept and eat it.

            “I will ruin your suit,” he said. 

            “It is not my suit, it is yours.”  Louis studied him.  “I will ask that you make an effort to eat more.  I do not know how much food I need stuff into you before you grow a 'fashionable little paunch' like mine.”

            Harry laughed.  “You needn't throw my words back at me, you know I love your little belly.”

            Louis was still waiting.  “Will you promise me?”

            “Must you sound so dire?  I promise, I promise.”

            “Good.  Perhaps you should have some of that cheese.”  Louis led Harry to the next table before Harry could respond. 

            “ _Louis!_ ”

            Harry turned at the excited call.  A group of four girls came walking up then, exposed mouths smiling under their elaborate masks. 

            “Am I so easily spotted?”  Louis asked, his eyes twinkling.

            “I could spot you from miles away, Brother.”

            Harry smiled as he watched Louis lean in to kiss the shortest of the girls, his eldest sister Sophia.  Her dark hair was pinned and twisted high on her head.  Her lips were full, and her face long.  Her waist was most fashionably small, pinched under a blood red bodice and maroon taffeta skirt.  Louis leaned towards the taller girl, whose honey brown hair was pinned up, with little ringlets loose about her face.  She wore dark purple velvet, with a lower neckline than the other.  Her chin was pointed, and Harry guessed she was the fifteen year old sister.

            “Verity.”  Louis said, confirming Harry's guess.

            He elegantly kissed the hands of his sister's friends, each utterly delighted by the act.

            “Is this Phillip?”  His sister Sophia asked, inspecting Harry closely.

            Louis shook his head.  “Good guess, but no.”

            Verity took a turn.  “Richard?  Richard Caple, is that you?”

            Harry grinned behind his mask and shook his head no.

            Louis quickly changed the subject.  “My dears, you look lovely this evening.”

            “As do you!”  Verity leaned in closer, so that the other girls would be unable to hear.  “Have you seen the Lady Driscoll?  Her dress cannot be cut any lower and one can all but see her bosom!”

            Sophia shushed her.  “Manners, Verity.  Our identities have been revealed, but we do not yet know the mystery man here.  He could very well be a relative of Lady Driscoll.”

            Verity had not thought of that and put her hand over her mouth.  “Oh.”

            Louis laughed.  “Fear not, Verity, he is no relation.  But do remember such dangers if you think to point out such observations among others.”

            Verity tried to compose herself.  “Yes, Brother.”

            “Since I am no such danger, do point out this catastrophe,” Harry encouraged, looking about.  As if to add credence that he even knew who the woman was, he added, “I did not see Lady Driscoll when I entered.” 

            Verity looked relieved and quickly glanced about the room.  “There!  The one in the green peacock feather mask!”

            Harry noticed the older woman immediately, who looked like a peacock herself.  Her dress was bright green and no tailor could cut it to hide all her curves or chest.  He had seen prostitutes dress more modestly.

            “How could I have missed her?”  He laughed.

            “It's no wonder she never remarried.  She killed her first husband, you know.”

            “Verity!”  Sophia gasped.

            Harry decided he rather liked this sister.  “I never heard that rumor.”

            Verity ignored her sisters scowl.  “They were trying for their sixth child, so she says, and he died of a heart attacked whilst in bed with her!”

            Harry laughed out loud while Sophia took Verity by the arm and excused them.

            “She is only fifteen, do not think her terrible,” Louis said lightly, watching them go.

            “Terrible?  She is wonderful.  Your older sister does not share the same honest wit, I take it?”

            “Sophia is much more practical than Verity and well-versed at playing her role.  Eva is ten and Lizzie nine, so they are still testing their wit.  My father has threatened Verity with many a man who he believes can tame her.”

            “Tame her?  She is not a horse to be broken in, is she?”

            “Try convincing my father of that.”

            They began walking about the room as guests flooded the dance floor.  More than a few were able to recognize Louis in his mask, and approached him to exchange pleasantries.  They all gave exchanged greetings with Harry, but none asked who he was, for there was no fun in that.

            After making their rounds, Louis stopped at a sitting area that was lined with benches.  Together they sat and watched the dancing, the men leading the women in carefully coordinated strides.

            A serving man approached them with a tray of drinks and Louis accepted two.  He handed Harry a glass.  “Brandy?”

            “Yes, thank you.”  Harry accepted the gold rimmed glass and decided it best not to mention that he had never tasted brandy before, else Louis might take it away.  After a few quick swallows he found that the drink was surprisingly sweet. 

            They sat in a comfortable silence, Harry taking still engrossed with the sights and smells.  There was much laughter and warmth in the room, the music perfectly in tune with the mood.

            “Pray tell, Louis, why you pretend to hate this all so much?”  Harry asked breathlessly after the dance floor became swirls of color.

            “It is...tiresome.”

            “How?  It is all so lovely.”

            “Being removed from it is lovely.  Being immersed in it is…suffocating.”

            “Maybe you should just try to enjoy yourself,” Harry replied, waving towards a serving man for another brandy.

            “You _are_ supposed to sip that-”

            “Louis, there you are!”  A voice called.

            Harry was not looking at Louis, but saw his body stiffen out of the corner of his eye.

            A woman in a high neckline dress approached them from the shadows.  Her dress was modest, almost prudish compared to the others style, the color a light rose pink and trimmed with white lace.  Her shoulders were very delicate, her frame most petite.  Her mask was also simple, a darker shade of pink and brushed with a few yellow lines.

            “Winnifred,” Louis stood at once and bowed.  “You look lovely.”

            A serving man refilled Harry's cup and he studied Louis' change in demeanor from the brim of his glass. 

            “Your sisters told me you had arrived.”  She regarded Harry, realized she did not know him, and continued.  “I needed to speak with you.  It is about luncheon tomorrow.  I do hope you are available.”

            Louis cleared his throat.  “Luncheon, tomorrow?”

            “My mother is hosting.  It will begin at one o’clock.”

            “One o'clock.  I will be there.”

            “My father will be delighted not to be the only man in attendance.”

            They continued a polite, colorless conversation about a knitting group which then led to an inquisition about Louis' grandmother's health.  Harry could not tell if this girl was pretty, considering half her face was hidden under a mask.  Her nose was small, her chin pointy.  Without the mask she may be pretty enough, but there was something absent in the eyes that almost made her seem cold. 

            There was an awkward silence that fell before she finally spoke again.  “I do like to dance every now and then.  Oh, but it does look fun.”

            “Dance?  Oh, of course,” Louis said flatly.  This Winnifred left him no option but to offer his hand in a dance.  He gave Harry a quick look back and Harry held up his glass in answer. 

Before Louis became lost in the mass, Harry watched him move with a wonderful, natural elegance, despite a certain stiffness that was likely due to the dance partner.  Still, he would have never guessed Louis could dance like that. 

            “Hello again, mystery guest.”  Verity sat with a plop besides Harry and regarded him with intense curiosity.  “Joseph?  Joseph Bradshaw?”

            Harry shook his head.  “No Joseph Bradshaw here.”

            Verity pulled a face.  “I wonder how I can only point out the people I would rather not know!”

            Harry tsked at that.  “Your sister would be loath to hear you speak like that in the company of a stranger.”

            “We are not strangers, I most likely have known you for years.  Besides, I purposely lost Sophia at the punch bowl.  Were you drinking brandy?”

            Harry knew the gentlemanly thing to do was order her a drink and took the opportunity to signal for another one himself.  The serving men were most attentive, and one was refilling Harry's glass while another gave Verity a glass.

            “How long have you known my brother?”

            “As long as I've know you.” Harry knew to be as vague as possible, and it was mostly the truth.

            “Ha!  You cannot be fooled easily I see.  Well know I can say for certain who you are not, for there aren't nearly enough clever men with such life in their eyes!”  She laughed and continued.  “My sister is hoping that Mr. Suell is going to ask her to dance.  But I have suspicions that he would rather be dancing with Valerie.  See, the one in the ivory dress, that is Valerie?”

            “Yes.”

            “Does Suell look like he is pawning for her?”

            Harry could see the man did, but knew a gentleman would never admit it.  “He is?”

            “Absolutely!  You can take my word on that.  But my sister will no doubt be married soon and she will forget all about Mr. Suell.  I'm certain my father has a few matches already lined up, though he will never say until he has made the final decision.”

Harry motioned with his glass.  “Did you notice your brother dancing?”

            “Oh, yes.  I am surprised Winnifred von Parma knows how.”

            Harry pretended as though he knew this Winnifred von Parma.  “I am surprised as well.  She never struck me as knowing those steps.”

            Verity laughed.  “How true!  But she would do anything to dance with Louis!”

            “Indeed.  _Anything_ , you say?”  Harry became very sad thinking that he and Louis would never be able to dance like that.  He finished his drink.

            “This season they have been attending every gala together.  He escorted her to the croquet game just last week.  All the girls are all talking about it.”

            A waiter appeared without being called and refilled Harry’s glass.  He drank from it, wondering why Louis had never mentioned her at all.  “Oh, I do remember now.  The croquet game.”

            “She is very polite, I suppose.  My mother adores her.”

            “How do you feel about her?”

            Verity leaned in close.  “Sophia loves her like a sister already, but I find her very dull.  Sometimes I wonder if she is just pretending to be helpless.  She may seem all small and frail, but I bet she knows exactly what she is doing when she bats those eyelashes.”

            “What do you think she is doing?”

            “Why, she wants to be married to Louis.”

            Harry gulped down his drink.  “Married?”

            “I'm not surprised my brother does not speak of it around his friends, but yes, do not doubt, Winnifred has set her sights on my Louis.”

The room was getting rowdier and the laughter louder.  All of it was beginning to hurt Harry's ears.  Verity was talking easily, and despite being enjoyable company, suddenly he could not focus on one thing, and excused himself from Verity with such manner he knew Louis would be proud.

            He found his way outside through an arched doorway and took a deep breath of the crisp air.  There were a dozen or so others standing about the lawn, the grass sparkling in dew.  Most of them appeared to be couples enjoying a stolen moment of peace.  Though none of them moved with any quickness, he found them difficult to look upon, so he turned his gaze towards the sky and saw it was filled with twinkling stars.

            Harry was staring so intently at the sky he did not notice an older gentleman and young girl come up behind him.

            “I was informed by my wife that I am not allowed to smoke in there,” the man said by way of greeting.  His mask covered most of his fleshy face, but Harry could see whiskers on his top lip.  “She calls it an ungentlemanly habit, most likely repeating the dribble of Queen Victoria.”  He proceeded to put a cigar in his mouth and deftly struck a match.  “You don't mind, do you?”

            It was on his tongue to say it hardly mattered now that the man had taking a puff and blown the acrid smoke into Harry's face, but he refrained.  “Not at all.”  The smell was familiar somehow.

            The man spoke around the cigar in his mouth.  “Your cup is empty.  A shame, truly, when a night like this makes a man thirsty.”  He flicked his fingers at a serving man standing under the archway and watched as Harry's cup was refilled and he took a fresh one, offering nothing to the girl at his side.

            “Thank you,” Harry said.  The man’s auburn hair was touched with gray and the girl’s a similar shade, so he assumed she was his daughter.  Despite the man's suit being cut in a way to help hide the thickening about his waist, though no suit could cover his thick neck. 

            “Do you look at the stars often?”  The man followed Harry's gaze towards the sky.

            Harry was grateful to have a column behind him in which he could lean against as he drank.  “When I can.”

            “It isn’t the same every night?”

            “Not at all.  That would be like saying every sunrise and every sunset is the same.  Some are brilliant orange, yellow, red, or pink.  Just like the stars; always different.” 

             “Well, you are not a Hall son, as I originally thought.  They would never be so, what is the word?  Poetic.”  The man laughed, but his eyes were without humor.  “There are so many Halls in London, I never know which family branch I am speaking with.”  He paused.  “I cannot tell who you are.”

            “Is that not the point of this night?”

            “The point is for one to think they are masked and fooling all the others, while everyone knows the truth.”  Harry heard it then, the familiarity of the voice, the way it wavered just so.  And the smell of cigars.

            _My God, one of my customers!_ The name this man had given him was Thomas Sutton, but Harry doubted it was his true name.  As the unlikelihood of this scenario dawned on him, he could not resist laughing aloud. 

            “I have said something amusing?”

            “One wishes to be masked so no one might ever be privy to their secrets.”

            Thomas narrowed his beady eyes when the girl finally spoke.  “I do not like wearing this mask.  It pinches my nose and hurts ever so much.”

            Thomas turned to her in irritation.  “You should not have switched with your mother.”

            “But hers was prettier!”  The girl looked at Harry.  “Do you not agree?  Is this mask pleasing?”

            Harry smiled.  “It is most pleasing.”

            The girl batted her eyelashes from within the mask.  Much like Winnifred with Louis, Harry thought drearily.

Thomas did not even notice, his eyes on Harry.  “Well, we have had a drink together and I never drink among strangers.  You must confess your name.”

            Harry studied the empty glass in his hand and for a moment he was at a loss.  It was only when he remembered Louis saying that he should pick a name he could remember did it come back to him.  “Albert.  Brady.”  Or was it Grady?  Suddenly Harry was not sure.

            “A Brady?  I should have known.  That grandmother of yours birthed babes like rabbits.  Well, Albert, this is my daughter Shelly, and I am-”

            “I know who you are.”  Harry bit his lip as he remembered too late that Louis had told him never to interrupt.  The man’s eyes went to Harry’s mouth and lingered there in something of recognition. 

Thomas’s voice was a croak.  “You do?”

            “ _There_ you are!”  Louis’s voice called as he came walking briskly towards them.

            “Hello.”  The girl lowered her head bashfully at Louis' approach. 

            Louis returned the bow, but his eyes were on Harry.  “I lost you for a moment.”

            “Mr. Tomlins, good evening.”  Thomas greeted, collecting himself.  In that second he was able to convince himself the man with the familiar mouth could never be who he thought it was.

            “Judge Frederick,” Louis responded.

            Harry snorted as he attempted to hide a laugh.

            The judge coughed.  “Again, I am amusing.”

            The girl nodded.  “You do tell wonderful jokes, Father.”

            “I had not realized I told one.”

            Louis' eyes were hidden in the shadow of the mask, but Harry was certain they were blazing.  He felt Louis’s fingers dig into his arm and pull him away, excusing them.

            They made their way across the lawn, the grass crunching under their shiny shoes.  Lanterns had been lit along the path so people could see, and despite nearing the carriages, Harry felt Louis' grip tighten.

            Harry glanced back at the party and the laughter and wondered how long it would go on.  Would it all end when the sun came up?

            He was not given the time to ask.  Louis' carriage was suddenly before them and Harry slipped as he attempted the steps on his own. 

            “What in God's name do you think you are doing?”  Louis demanded once the carriage door was pulled shut and the carriage moved forward.  “You are drunk!”

            “No, I am not!”  Harry gasped.  He had never felt so utterly insulted, until he considered it.  “At least...I don't think I am.  I have never had brandy before and it is quite delicious.”

            “ _What?_ How much did you drink?”

            “Ah...funny thing, I cannot remember.”

            Louis closed his eyes, much like the way a mother would do when losing patience with her child.  “Why did you leave my sight?”

            “I needed some air.  It's not as though you could see me anyway.”

            “I could see _you_ ,” Louis said angrily.

            “Who was that girl?”

            “Who?  The red headed girl?”

            The carriage's speed quickened once it was off the paved dirt path.  The clatter of hooves on cobblestone had never been so loud in Harry's ears.  “You needn't be coy, Louis.  The one you danced with.”

            Louis pulled off his mask.  “No one.  Now Harry, I thought I could trust bringing you here.  You did promise to behave.”

            The carriage was spinning.  Harry didn't understand how Louis could sit so still with all this motion.  “Why are you so angry?  What did I do?”

            “You laughed at that man.”

            Harry remembered and laughed again.  “He is a judge?”

            “Yes.”

            “Ah.  No doubt he would not wear his wig when he comes to see me.”

            Louis' eyes flashed.  “Too much drink has muddled your senses.”

            “That is not so!  He is one of my customers.”

            “You must be mistaken.  He is one of the most respectable judges in London.”

            “I assure you, Louis, that I know him and his smelly cigars.  Why should that surprise you?  You said yourself some of my customers would be there.”

            “I just wouldn't expect him…”

            “Would he expect _you?_   I should never have said anything.”  Harry was dizzy.  The fluids in his belly were swishing together and churned with every turn of the carriage.  “Please don't be angry at me.” 

            “I am not angry.  I am furious.”

            “Oh, please don't be!  This was a very special night.  Louis, do you know how beautiful you are?  And your little bum, do you even realize how lovely...how so very...”  Harry was about to say more when the carriage took a hard turn.  He slapped his hand over his mouth.  “Louis...love...I am going to be sick.”

            “What?”

            “Stop the carriage!”

            Louis called for them to stop just in time for Harry to stumble down the steps and into the road.  There wasn't much food to come up, but there was plenty of brandy.  It burned Harry's throat and made him feel all the more ill.  He was on his hands and knees, heaving right there on the pavement under a street lamp.          

            After a moment he heard the click of Louis' heels beside him.  “Serves you right.”

            “Go away, please.”

            “It's not as if I haven't seen you like this before.”

            “Must you remind me?”  Harry felt his stomach churn once again.  The streets themselves seemed to be spinning, and Harry put his head in his hands.  “Oh no!  I have ruined your suit, it is all wet.”

            He heard Louis sigh, felt a hand slide across his back.  “Come on, let me help you up.”

            Harry waved him away.  At the moment, staying right there in the street seemed the most appealing thing.  He mumbled in argument as he felt arms lift him and guide him back into the carriage.  He closed his eyes for what felt like a minute, yet when he opened them again he was in his bed. 

            “Louis?”  Harry called.  The room was still spinning and he fell to the floor as he attempted to stand.  There was no answer.  Harry's feet were tangled in his sheets and he tried to kick them off.  _Of course Louis isn't here._   Louis would need return to the party, or perhaps to that Winnifred's house.  The notion made him ill.  Or maybe it was still the brandy.

            “Harry!  What are you doing now?”

            “Louis?”  Harry looked up in time to watch Louis rush to his side, a damp towel draped over his arm.  Louis untangled the sheets and helped Harry back into bed.  Harry noticed that he was still in the suit, and Louis still in his.  Of course I am, Louis does not know how to dress or undress himself, Harry thought.  He touched his face and found that the mask had been taken off.

            “You should go back to the party,” Harry mumbled.

            “Why would I do that?  You are a lousy drunk.  How can I leave you like this?”

            “You will have more fun at the party.”

            Harry wasn't sure, but thought he saw Louis roll his eyes.  “This is for you head.  That man...Clarence, is his name?  He came upon me struggling with you and helped get you here.  He thought this might help.”

            Harry scrunched up his face as the words dawned on him.  “You jest.  The Big Man loathes me.”

            “You are in such a sorry state that even he has taken pity on you.”

            Harry draped the towel across his forehead and leaned back against his pillow.  After a few moments he finally said, “You were dancing.”

            “Yes.”

            “With that girl.  You said she was 'no one'.  Her name is Winnifred.”

            “You remember that?”

            “Do you think she is pretty?”

            Louis sat upon the bed.  “I suppose.”

            “I wish I could have danced with you.”

            “Do you?”  Louis' voice then dropped so low it became a whisper, as if he did not truly wish Harry to hear.  “What if I was poor?  What if I was just a man sweeping the street?  Would you even notice me?  Would you still want to dance with me?”

            “Yes, yes, a hundred times yes!”  Harry answered with conviction.  “Perhaps it would be easier if you were poor like me.  No one cares what a sweeper does in his bedroom.  Everyone feels the need to judge a gent.”

            He wasn't sure, but it looked as though Louis smiled then.  “Do you ever think anything you don't say?”

            “Does it count if I don't remember it?”

            “Of course not.”  Louis took a breath.  “Did you tell the judge who you were?”

            “Why is everything bouncing around, Louis?  I do not think I like brandy after all.”  Harry rubbed his eyes.  “What did you say about the judge?”

            “Did you tell him your name?”

            “I told him my name was Albert.  I can't remember what last name I said, I think it was Grady.  Oh.  Did I get you into trouble?”

            “No.  There were several other scandals going on, much more interesting than a mystery man, and you weren't the only one besides.  One woman switched dresses with a friend, but never told her husband.  I guess her husband was caught kissing the other woman, who also refrained from confessing her identity.”

            “You are lying!”

            Louis smiled.  “My sister told me.”

            “I like her.”

            “I was afraid you would.”

            “There is something wrong with my eyes, I think.  They will not focus, Lou.”

            “What did you call me?”

            “What did I just call you?  Oh, yes, Lou.  Do you not like it?”

            “No, I like it very much.”  Louis smiled.  “Close your eyes now, Harry.  You will fall asleep in no time.”

            “You are _so_ bossy, Lou!  Always trying to tell me what to do!”  Harry protested, but with little resistance.  He did not remember if Louis said anything after that.  When Harry did close his eyes he fell into a welcomed sleep.

 

 

 

 

            The heat began to rise as the season was winding down.  Even when the sun was not shining in the sky, the days were hot and still.  The absence of a breeze caused the neighborhood of Charrington Street to reach unbelievable smells.  Just as the people who lived on the streets dreaded the cold winters, the hot summers were just as bad.  Water was sparse, and one could just as easily die from dehydration.  The sky was a pale blue, spotted with thick white clouds, while the streets were littered with debris and overflowing sewage. 

            With the parties and decadence of the season ending, Louis had more free time on his hands.  Unfortunately, Harry now had less, as men who had put their appetites on hold returned as eager as ever.  Some nights were so full Charlie had to deny customers, much to his dismay, hating to embarrass them.  Harry did not care, for he knew they would always come back.  Even one respectable judge did not stay away.  The first time he came back to Harry's room he spent an awful long time studying Harry's mouth, as if trying to decide if this was the man from the masquerade ball.  He even commented upon Harry’s white teeth and how the front two were longer than the others.  Harry acted flattered by the praise, then went on to mention that he need be gentle, as he was still recovering from a broken foot that had kept him confined to his bed for the last few months.  The judge relaxed then, fully convinced that there was no way in hell this boy prostitute could have attended a society ball, that he must have had too many drinks that night, and accepted his word as truth.

            Because he was so preoccupied every evening, Harry tried to make plans with Louis in the morning, but he was so tired he kept sleeping through their plans.  He would only just fall asleep as the sun came up most nights, and Charlie took no mercy on him, keeping his most profitable worker busy.  One day Harry had only arrived at a park to meet Louis in time to turn around and go home.  Louis had tried to hide his irritation, and asked if he could meet Harry one night in Harry's room, and Harry told him that he was available after midnight the following Saturday.   

            That Saturday had arrived, and Harry was with his last customer.

            “Your eyes.  They are a splendid color of a green.”

            A gentleman named Darby was laying naked in bed, save the one sheet draped across him, next to Harry.  He liked to talk when they were finished, and tonight was no exception.

            “Thank you.”

            Darby touched Harry's chin.  “You do not have to shave yet.”

            “No.  But I am not so young as that.”

            “How old are you, might I ask?”

            “I'll be eighteen this year.”

            The man rolled over onto his stomach chuckling, and began regaling Harry with tales of his own youth, such a long time again.

            It wasn't until Harry noticed the time did he sit up with a jolt.  “It is almost one o'clock.”

            The man stretched.  “I will pay your...what is he, exactly?  Your keeper?”

            “Yes, I suppose.  I will help you with your things.”

            It seemed to take a lifetime for Harry to help the man dress and get him out the door.  The ticking minutes on the clock was a loud reminder of how much time continued to pass.

            As soon as Darby was down the hall, Louis appeared at the door, entering in quick strides, not even bothering to sit.  Harry could see the tension in his body.

            “Can I take your hat?”  Harry asked.  Louis had rolled up his sleeves already, his coat  draped over his shoulder.

            “You said you would be finished at midnight.”  Louis did not remove his hat.

            “He...I lost track of time.”

            “Lost track of time, you say?”  Louis' voice was cold.  “Was it so wonderful that you did not even notice the clock, _right there_?”

            Harry decided not to answer.  “You usually arrive an hour late.”

            “I was on Barrington Street before I came here.  I couldn't very well go all the way home, simply to turn around and come back east.”  Louis began to pace.  “I was out in the hall, just sitting there.”

            “No one told you to wait in the hall.  The candle was not lit.”

            “It is a hundred degrees in this room!”  Louis' blue eyes finally met Harry's.  “This house smells of rotting cabbage.”

            “Would you like me to open a window?”

            “It smells worse out there!”  Louis threw his hands in the air.  “It is this neighborhood.  I have never smelled anything like it.”

            “Do you think my nose does not work?  Do you think I can't smell it?  I do, everyday, this is where I live!  I am sorry to offend your nostrils with the foulness in my neighborhood!”  Harry shot back.

            “You should have made that man leave.”

            “I told you, I lost track of the time!”

            “I don't like waiting around in the hall.  I...I didn't like seeing _this_.”

            “Seeing what?”

            “I saw _him_.  The one who left.”

            “And?  You know what I do, Louis.”

            “I do not like it.”

            “Well, it is my job.”

            “Why can't you find another job?”

            Harry forced a laugh.  “Doing what exactly?  Selling pies?”

            “You are lazy.  If you woke at a decent hour, you might be able to find a proper job.”

            Harry felt the blood rush to his face in his anger.  “ _Nothing_ I could be doing out there would allow me a room, let alone my own bed.  The ones out there who work from sunrise to sunset are still sleeping on the street!  I told you before I came here, I was not long from dying of starvation.”

            “And besides this bed, how are you any better off?  You still barely eat.”  Louis shook his head.  “I do not like feeling like one of your customers.  Being made to wait like that.”

            Harry crossed his arms.  “No, of course not!  Mr. Louis Tomlins should never have to wait.  You should merely speak and all shall be done.  The streets should part to make way for you!”

            “You are the one who can't even bother to wake up in time to meet me!”  Louis pulled at his collar as if it were choking him.

            “I said I was sorry for being late!  I am up all night with customers, I-”

            “I don't want to hear about what you do anymore.  It is bad enough I just had to watch that man leave, his swagger, his...he seemed irritatingly satisfied.  God help me, what if he saw me?  Even if he doesn't know me, he saw me waiting there like a beggar.”  Louis' voice was quiet, but angry. “You were jealous of me dancing with a girl.  You know I draw no enjoyment out of that.  However, it is just fine for you to do whatever you please with other men in this bloody house!”

            Harry had lived on the streets and seen middle-class people regard him as slime, but it had never mattered.  It had never mattered to him until now.  “Did I dirty your pretty polished shoes, Louis?  Did I make you walk through the mud to get to me?”

            Louis took a breath, but Harry charged on.  “And yes, I will do what I please with them.  Because I am certainly pleased with those other men.  The one you just saw, Darby, he pleases me quite a bit.”  After the words came out of him, Harry almost apologized.  But something inside made him want to hurt Louis.  He wanted to hurt Louis the same way Louis hurt him by judging this house, this neighborhood, inevitably Harry in the same way. 

            “You do not mean that.”  Louis' blue eyes went from angry to sad in an instant.

            “Why, not Louis?  Are you surprised that some men can do things _better_ than you after all?  That you are not the best at everything?”  Harry almost choked on his words.  Truthfully, Harry had not enjoyed it with any of his customers since he had been with Louis.  He had never felt with any of them what he found with Louis.  _Tell him true.  Tell him how much he means.  He just witnessed another man leave your bed, he is angry._   _We are both angry._   But Harry could not make himself take back his words, or confess the truth.

            “Fine.  If that is how you feel, I will not displease you any longer.”  Louis pulled on his coat in one swift move.  “Where should I leave my money, then?  I don't want you to think I won't pay for a whore.”

            “Get out!”  Harry shouted, but Louis had already slammed the door behind him. 

            After that, the house was eerily silent.  Only the ticking of the clock made any sound in his room.  Harry wiped at his forehead, which was soaked in sweat.  He went to the window pry it open, but it was stuck.  He thought he heard Louis' steps on the street below, but that might have been anyone.  Harry gave up on the window and tore off his clothes.  He landed on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. 

            He will come back, he thought.  In the stories they always came back.  Louis would charge into this room and apologize.  Harry was not so much offended at being called a whore (he knew exactly what he was) but he never thought he would hear it from Louis.  Louis had always looked at him differently.  He had never complained before about Harry's occupation.  Harry remembered the look on Louis' face the first time he came to Hartwick House and had confirmed exactly what Harry did. 

            As Harry replayed the exchange in his head one minute he was thinking he was in the wrong, and the next he was so furious at Louis he could scream.  In the end he decided that Louis should be the one to apologize.  It wasn't Harry's fault Louis had seen Darby's face.  Was that what had started it all?  Perhaps it was the heat in the city, it was enough to drive a sane person mad with discomfort.

            But in the following days Louis did not come back, nor send word to him.  Days turned into weeks.  For one brief moment Harry thought about sending him a letter, but in the end he was too stubborn.  The more time went on, the angrier Harry became.  So to take his mind off Louis, he immersed himself in his job, and worked harder than he ever had before to get any enjoyment out of it.


End file.
